Current mood:
enlightened ..............
Today’s date is June 13th. It comes around every year, guaran-damn-teed but this year is different. No real surprise there since I’ve voluntarily turned my entire life inside out.
12 years ago today I got married.
That’s right folks. It is my wedding anniversary. Not sure that a card would be appropriate at this time, you think? I swear I want to make a whole line of greetings cards specifically for divorce. Can you imagine walking into Target and going to the Divorce section? There could be sub-categories including “What the hell happened”, “I’m sorry I called you a Dickhole” and “Here’s your support check, you Fucking Bitch”. I think I might be on to something here.
So let’s get back to my anniversary. I have been thinking about it today. I didn’t care for the whole big wedding process and when I say big wedding I mean big “southern” wedding including bridesmaids, multiple showers, formal china, stemware and monogrammed linens. My wedding was a traditional, country club shindig with more guests than I care to remember. There was a full sit down dinner complete with complimentary wines, an open bar, music, family and friends and it was a pretty big deal.
It’s funny though because everyone, and I mean everyone, remembers my wedding fondly…my family knows how to throw a party and participate in one as well yet I was the only person who didn’t enjoy it. Instead I felt incredibly out of place. You know those weddings where the bride and groom dance and have a great time with their guests? You see this couple in love and being themselves and it is all about them? Well, that wasn’t me. Shithead was on the dance floor having a ball, my friends and family were having a great time but I have memories of just wandering around, trying to figure out what to do.
I remember one moment in particular. It was about halfway through the reception. I was standing in the “parlor” aka the bar area where there were long silk drapes, big couches, several seating areas and the large cherry wood bar. The area opens into an adjoining ballroom where the dinner tables and entertainment were located. There are two sets of large wooden doors that separate the two spaces. Between those doors is an equally large framed mirror. So there I was, wandering around trying to figure out where I was supposed to be. It certainly wasn’t on the dance floor and it wasn’t at the bar and I didn’t dare try to sit down in my enormous dress. Instead I was just sort of standing there, holding a glass of wine.
I saw my reflection and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Most of the guests were in the ballroom but here I stood, alone, in a dress that I didn’t love, wearing too much makeup and toting overdone hair. Is that me? Is that really me? For a moment I lost my breath. I was looking at a stranger. I had just married a man that had no respect, no genuine appreciation for the person underneath this white smock of fabric. In fact, he wanted to change everything about me. He wanted someone else but then again, so did I. I will never, ever forget that moment. It was as if the entire world was moving in a blur of speed and here I was, standing, very still and very much alone.
I quickly realized there were people around and I excused myself to a private room. There I sat and cried for a while. I wasn’t sure what had just happened. Was I sad because I was making a mistake? Was I sad because this wasn’t the small, intimate wedding of my dreams? Was I sad because I would have been a mother at this exact time if not for the abortion? I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. To this day I’m not sure what the tears were for specifically. But they were there and I knew that on this day, of all days, that there shouldn’t be anything but tears of joy. And yet I wasn’t joyful.
My mother recently asked me, after her best friend asked the question of her, why did I marry him? What was it about him in particular that made me wake up one day and say “this is the man I want to marry”? Good question and I wasn’t 100 percent sure of my answer when initially asked. After giving it some real thought and going through the past several months I now realize why I married him, or at least what I believe is the underlying reason.
He didn’t love me for me and that was perfect because I didn’t love me for me. Why in the world would I be with a man who expected something more? It makes sense and although it wasn’t an intentional thought at the time, I was very aware of his lack of faith in me. You see, he didn’t think I was capable of achieving much so guess what, I didn’t. And because he didn’t expect much from me, I didn’t expect much from myself. What it boils down to is that every time I started to see my own worth, I became scared. I was so scared that I ended a relationship with a good man who did believe in me. I broke off that relationship so that I could begin dating what would be my husband, just so I didn't have to face myself. Talk about denial!
I was scared of my own potential, of my own power and of my own genuine voice. Instead of being with a man who believed in me, I wanted to hide away and fade into being nothing. It’s all I believed that I could be and he provided a perfect hiding place. A man who didn’t believe in me was precisely what I wanted, but not at all what I needed.
The silver lining is made up of three very real things for me and the first part being my children. If I had never walked down that aisle with him, I would not have become a mother to my beautiful. They are worth every minute of this marriage and every minute of this divorce. For them alone I wouldn’t change a minute of the past 12 years. They have made that part of my life complete and I am a better person because of them.
The second part of the silver lining lies with the wonderful man that has made it this leap of faith with me. It's a much sweeter journey because of him. I believe that I had to love the wrong man in order to find the right man and he is the right one. Having him in my life, well, there aren’t enough words. Only one thing comes to mind and that is joy. He is my joy.
The final piece of the puzzle is yours truly. I am no longer in hiding. I’m here, unapologetic, determined for something better, determined for something more and loving who I am is the first step. And I do love who I am....wait, did I just say that? Man, my therapist is gonna shit a brick. I've been trying to get to this point for so long and I feel like I'm making real progress. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. But I’m done hiding and I’m done not being myself. All these years I was in hiding, they weren’t a waste. They were precisely what I needed. I needed the escape from who I really am to appreciate just how much I like who I really am. I missed her. I missed Iris.
June 13th will no longer be my wedding anniversary. It won’t be the day I remember getting married. Nope. Today I’ll celebrate the fact that I am here, that I am living my life as a mother, a lover, a woman, and a perfectly fallible person. It’s who I am and I love it. I love the genuine, nutty, scattered, artistic woman that I have become and that I’ve always been. Nope. No more hiding it. After all, the world seems to be responding quite nicely to “Iris”. I know I like her!
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